SUPER CELEBRITY SLUGFEST!
by Theodore Barrington
Summary: Random celebrities (and fictitious characters) are thrown into an arena to fight to the death. Or at least the first really serious owie. Heavily inspired (obviously) by Celebrity Deathmatch. Starring Fox and Wolf from Super Smash Brothers Smackdown.
1. Prologue: A New Job

[Wolf meets Fox outside an office door]

Wolf: Hello, Fox.

Fox: 'sup?

Wolf: Any idea why Master Hand wants to see us?

Fox: Not a clue.

[They go inside]

Master Hand: Hello, boys.

Wolf: Good morning, Master Hand.

Fox: Whattup Handman!

Wolf: Fox, don't be rude!

Fox: Shut-up, Wolf. Me and Hand are cool.

Master Hand: You know it.

[He curls into a fist, which Fox pounds. He ignores Wolf.]

Master Hand: How's the leg, Fox?

Fox: Still broken.

Master Hand: Yeah? Tell you what, once we're done here, head down to the infirmary for a Life Mushroom?

Wolf: Woah, how come I didn't get a Life Mushroom when both my arms got broken last year?

Master Hand: Shut-up, Wolf. Nobody likes a complainer.

Fox: So what's the go, Bosshand?

Master: Look boys, I know you're fresh off Super Smash Smackdown, but I've got another job for you.

Fox: What kind of job?

Master Hand: Word is the bigwigs upstairs are looking for a pair of commentators for a new fic, and since you guys were such a smash in your last gig, I've put you forward. It's a tourney similar to Smackdown, between the famous people both real and fictional of that particular dimension.

Wolf: And they just want us to watch the matches and narrate what happens?

Hand: Bingo baby-cakes.

[Fox and Wolf exchange looks]

Fox: Well gee, boss, it's tempting...

Wolf:... but we kinda have other plans...

Hand: Yeeeeeah...you actually don't have a choice...

Wolf: Huh?

Fox: Woah, hold on now...

[Master Hand snaps his fingers, summoning a portal and shoves Fox and Wolf towards it]

Hand: You kids have fun now and stay safe, buh-bye!

Wolf: No don't-

Fox: Oh you-

[They pass through and the portal seals up behind them. The worm tunnel is psychedelic as funk and the furry friends trip major balls as they tunnel through the very fabric of time and space itself until they emerge blinking and dizzy out the other side.[

Wolf: I BEG YOU!

Fox:...son of a...hey we're hear!

[They look around, seeing that they are in the commentators box of a colossal stadium, jam-packed with spectators, cameras, the works. Unseen hands press a script into both their hands.]

Voice: And we're live in three...two...one...go!

Fox: Uh...ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Omniverse Arena! I'm Fox McCloud...

Wolf: And I'm Wolf O'Donnell, and you're watching...

Both: SUPER. CELEBRITY. SLUGFEEEEEEEEEEEST!

Fox: We'll be right back after these messages.


	2. 1D vs Justin Bieber

Fox: Welcome back ladies and gentlemen, I'm Fox McCloud...

Wolf:...and I'm Wolf O'Donnell. Tonight's match-up is a battle of the tween pop sensations as boy band One Direction square off against Justin Bieber.

Fox: A friendly reminder to the audience tonight that all battles are to the death and anything goes.

Wolf: Wow...that doesn't seem gratuitous to you?

Fox: Shut-up, Wolf. Just stick to the script.

Wolf: *sigh* I hope you are all ready for some primo carnage-o tonight.

Fox: We have a standard setup crates provided for cover, junk scattered around for use as improvised weapons and claymores scattered around the ring.

Wolf: I'm pretty sure that's anything but standard.

Fox: Shut up, Wolf. Let's cross to the one and only Michael Buffer down in the ring.

Buffer: Llllllladies and Gentlemen! In the red white and blue corner, the ...[he shudders] sultan of swag: Justin Bieberrrrrrrr!

[Bieber struts out, cap back to front, pants around his knees and wearing a douchey sunglasses, tank top combo. The crowd cheers, but less out or support, more out of bloodlust]

Buffer: Aaaaaand in the Lime corner Ooooooome Directiooooon...

[The 1D emerge to equal cheering. They're also cocky, but more tastefully dressed.]

Wolf: Both sides are sizing each other up. One Direction has the numbers but Bieber seems to have the aggressive edge.

Bieber: What the *bleep* did you say to me *bleep*? I'll beat the *bleep* out of you *bleep*!

Liam: I said, I wish you the best of luck and may the best artist win.

Fox: Looks like the customary trash talk has already started, though I don't think One Direction has quite got the hang of it.

Wolf: Guess not. And now over to the Ref, Mister Chuck Norris.

[Chuck Norris roundhouse kicks a ninja into a gong, signalling the start of the bout.]

Wolf: Already the Britt boys are looking around for weapons.

Fox: Bieber, meanwhile, seems to be perfectly content standing in the middle of the ring, flipping them off. As far as strategy goes, that's right up there with burying your head in sand or mooning the audience. What a twerp.

Wolf: Louis has gotten a hold of a beer bottle and smashed it against one of the crates. Zayn has picked up a chain while Harry is brandishing a monkey wrench.

Fox: Niall and Liam are just rolling up their sleeves. I guess they're content with using their bare fists.

Wolf: The boys are advancing on Bieber, who still doesn't seem bothered. I wonder if he even knows he's in a fight!

Harry: You know, you've got that one thing... and I'm gonna knock it off your face!

Louis: It ain't hard to tell, you don't know you're about to die choking on your own blood!

Liam: Nothing personal!

Fox: Well their trash talk hasn't improved, but now isn't the time for talk, it's time for violence!

Wolf: Wait, Bieber is making a move, pulling a Beretta pistol from his waistband!

Fox: The Britt boys are scrambling for cover as Bieber starts firing "gangsta style."

*Blam!* *Blam!* *Blam!*

Bieber: Yeah! Eat it! Eat it! What now *bleep* what now?

Fox: Good question. Not a lot melee weapons can do against a gun.

Wolf: The boys are safe behind the crates for now.

Fox: Actually I think they're safe because Bieber is a terrible shot.

Wolf: Also true.

*Blam!* *click* *click*

Fox: Now Bieber is out of ammo, perhaps One Direction can make a move.

Wolf: Harry sticks his head up and sees Bieber trying to find another clip for his gun. Seeing an opportunity, Harry raises his monkey wrench and charges!

Harry: Hiyaaaaaaaah!

Fox: Bieber fumbles with another clip...

Wolf: But Harry is nearly on top of him.

Fox: Harry swings...

*BLAM!*

[Harry's head explodes]

Fox: Holy *bleep!* What the hell was that?

Wolf: Look, Fox! There are three figures up in the rafters and one of them is holding a sniper rifle!

Fox: Whoever they are, they're abseiling down into the ring.

Wolf: The ref hasn't stopped the match, so it must be ok.

Fox: The figures pull back their balaclavas...it's...it's...uh, I have no idea who these guys are.

Wolf: It's the Jonas brothers!

Fox: Oh. I knew that.

[Nick, gestures for a mic while his brothers train their weapons in the direction of One Direction.]

Bieber: The *bleep* are you doing here?

Nick: Don't worry Biebs, we're on your side. We also know what it's like to be adored by many one day and irrelevant the next.

Bieber: The *bleep* do you mean irrel...irrel...that word?

Nick: Easy tiger, it's not me you wanna be angry at, but these putzes who took your glory.

Wolf: That's done it! Bieber reloads and joins the Jonas brothers firing at One Direction

*Blam!* *Blam!*

*Brakka Brakka*

*CHOOM!* *CHOOM!*

*BLAM!*

Fox: A crate is completely shredded, leaving Louis and Zayn exposed.

Wolf: The boys run, but Kevin draws a bead on Louis with his assault rifle and fires...

*Brakka*

Wolf:..Louis takes a round to the leg and goes down!

Fox: But Zayn drags him behind cover.

Nick: Great work guys, that'll teach these slimy Limeys to mess with Americans!

Bieber: And Canadians!

Nick: Wait, you mean you're not American?

Bieber: *bleep* no!

Nick: You conniving Canuck bastard!

*CHOOM!*  
>*Blam!*<br>*BLAM!*  
>*PANG!*<p>

Fox:...what...what just happened?

Wolf: I don't know. Let's check the slow-mo instant replay.

Fox: This is insane! In a fit of anger, Nick blasts Bieber off his feet with his shotgun, causing Bieber's fingers to spasm and pull the trigger of his Baretta. The bullet misses Nick, but hits Joe in the eye as he turns. This causes Joe to fire his rifle and the bullet ricochets off the ring's reinforced wall, punching right through his neck.

Wolf: Incredible! Just like that, three are dead, by sheer fluke!

Fox: Only Kevin remains, standing in shock and wearing the blood of his brothers.

Wolf: Hang on, he's shaking off his stupor and raising his assault rifle.

Kevin: You killed my brothers you *bleep* *bleep* *bleep*ing *bleep*ers!

Wolf: Well that's technically incorrect, but we get the point.

Fox: With a cry of rage, he runs toward the cowering Brits, firing as he goes...

Kevin: RAAAAAARGH!

*Brakka Brakka Brakka*

Wolf: But wait, he's so mad he can't see that he's heading right for that...

*BOOM!*

Wolf:...claymore.

Fox: Ouch!

Wolf: I think I'm gonna be sick.

Fox: And in a surprisingly anticlimactic turn of events, the opposing team have eliminated themselves, making the remnants of One Direction the winners by default!

Wolf: As I'm sure they'll be delighted to learn when they emerge from cover.

Fox: We promised you blood, and you got it! Until next time, I'm Fox McCloud...

Wolf:...and I'm Wolf O'Donnell, you've been watching...

Both: SUPER. CELEBRITY. SLUGFEEEEEEEST!

Wolf: G'night everybody!

Fox: Hey speaking of remnants, somebody wanna get a mop and bucket for ol' Kevin?

Wolf: Too soon, dude!


	3. Hall & Oates vs Simon & Garfunkel

Fox: Good evening ladies and gentlemen and welcome to Super Celebrity Slugfest! I'm Fox McCloud...

Wolf: ...and I'm Wolf O'Donnell.

Fox: We've got a blast from the past for you this week, ladies and gentlemen as two iconic music duos from the 60's and 70's will do battle in an out brawl-out.

Wolf: That's right Fox, tonight, Daryl Hall and John Oates go head against Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel.

Fox: It's old-school vs somewhat older-school in a battle we like to call "That's All Folk!"

Wolf: Actually, Fox, I don't believe Hall and Oates were ever classified as Folk musicians.

Fox: Shut up, Wolf. Tonight we have a standard bar setting, complete with actual alcohol on-tap.

Wolf: And they even got those little dishes of complimentary peanuts.

Fox: Oh yeah, _that'll _be useful. Let's cross down to Michael Buffer at the ring.

Buffer: Lllllladies and gentlemen, in the left hand corner, with a total of 44 years and counting between them: Hall & Oates!

[The Audience Cheers]

Buffer: And in the right hand corner, with a total of 21 years, but more hits together: Simon & Garfunkeeeeeeell!

[More cheering]

Fox: Personally, I'm curious to see how this pans out. These artists are quite tame by today's standards, but who knows what dirty tricks these old guys have up their sleeves.

Wolf: The four combatants move to their respective corners. Let's go over to the ref.

[Chuck Norris rips the heart out of a ninja and kicks the corpse into the gong]

Fox: And that's the start of the match.

Wolf: Already the combatants are scrambling for weapons. Unlike the younger artists from the last match, they've wasted no time with bragging or insults.

Fox: Probably 'cause our writer doesn't know these guys well enough to write relevant quips.

Wolf: Fox! Remember what Master Hand said about becoming Self-Aware!

Fox: Oh...uh, you're right Wolf, it's refreshing to see that these gentlemen are letting their fists, feet and assorted blunt objects do the talking for them.

Wolf: Simon and Oates are already trading blows with pool cues and they look pretty evenly matched.

Fox: Meanwhile, Hall has gotten ahold of the darts and is flinging them at Garfunkel who - displaying remarkable agility for a man of his advanced age- rolls over the bar and takes cover.

Wolf: Oates gets in a lucky shot, rapping his cue across Simon's knuckles. Simon doesn't drop his cue however and...

*CRACK*

Hall: AAAARGH!

Wolf: Smashes it against Halls knee!

*POK*

Wolf: Following the blow with a jab to the face! Oates staggers and Simon presses the advantage, driving him back against the table!

*THUD*

Wolf: Simon has his cue to Oates' throat, pinning him against the table.

Simon: What's it like being a second-class, second fiddle? People like _GARFUNKEL_ more than you.

Garfunkel: I'm right here, Paul!

Simon: Shut up, Art! Now hold still boy, for like a Bridge Over Troubled Water, I will lay you down.

Wolf: It looks like Oates is in trouble, but look! He grabs a cue ball from the table and smacks it against against Simons head!

*Thwack!* *Thwack!* *Thwack!*

Wolf: Again and again!

Fox: I guess he took exception to that fiddle remark.

Wolf: Well it's working, a dazed Simon drops his cue. Oates takes advantage of this and slams him onto the table, then climbs up after him. He grabs the rack and puts it around his opponents neck, places a knee on his back and pulls up hard, choking Simon!

Fox: That's pretty metal!

Wolf: I guess after all those years of living in the shadows of both Hall AND Simon & Garfunkel, something finally snapped.

Fox: Guess you can relate, huh, Wolf?

Wolf: What's that supposed to mean?

Oates: Why don't you Make My Dreams, old man?

Wolf: He keeps pulling back...oh no, I can't look.

*CRACK*

Fox: Oh SNAP! Simon pulls a Gwen Stacey!

Wolf: Woah, Fox! That is _way_ too soon!

Fox: I'd be more concerned with Oates down there, Wolf. He's just sitting on the corpse of Simon, singing "You've Lost That Loving Feelin'" and chuckling maniacally to himself.

Wolf: Well, that's unsettling.

Fox: Let's see what Hall and Garfunkel are up to.

Wolf: Hall -out of darts- has seized the stuffed marlin from its perch and is furiously trying to skewer Garfunkel, who is only just managing to keep out of reach.

Fox: But Ol Arty is running out of room behind that bar. When is he going to fight back?

Wolf: Maybe he's just waiting for the right moment to strike?

Fox: I think it's too late for that, Garfunkel slips on a discarded dart and loses his footing just as Hall thrusts with the marlin...

*thunk*

Wolf: Ooh, right in the sternum!

Fox: I bet that stings!

Wolf: Hall throws his head back in laughter as Garfunkel pitches forward, landing heavily against the bar. It looks like this could be the end for Simon & Garfunkel!

Fox: Wait a minute, Wolf, he was stabbed, but he's not bleeding! What's going on?

Wolf: Garfunkel flicks his hand and something flies into Hall's mouth!

Fox: Whatever it is, it's having an immediate effect on Hall, he's choking! His face is turning red...

Wolf: Not only that, but I think he's starting to swell up!

Fox: I ask again: what's going on?

Wolf: Wait, I think I know! When Garfunkel crashed against the bar, he must have grabbed one of the complimentary peanuts and threw it down Hall's throat, triggering a severe anaphylactic shock!

Fox: So Daryl Hall is allergic to peanuts, huh? Who knew?

Wolf: I guess Art Garfunkel did.

Fox: But that doesn't explain how he could take a Marlin to the chest like it was a gentle breeze?

[Garfunkel dislodges the Marlin and throws it away. He reaches into his jacket and produces a leather-bound book. He inspects the cover, scowling at the hole punched into the front cover.]

Wolf: Wow, I heard Garfunkel was an avid bibliophile!

Fox: Saved by the collected works of John Steinbeck and a peanut; who'd a thunk it?

[Wolf looks at Fox]

Fox: What?

Wolf: You know who John Steinbeck is?

Fox: So just because I am impossibly good looking and the most gifted pilot in the known universe, I'm not allowed to enjoy reading?

Wolf: Not at all.

Fox: Then shut up, Wolf. Down in the ring, Garfunkel is coming out behind the bar to kneel beside Hall, who is too busy asphyxiating on the floor to fight back and covers his nose and mouth.

Wolf: Hall can do nothing but feebly twitch until he is finally still. Geez...

Fox: Stone cold Garfunkel!

Wolf: Uh-oh, looks like Oates has finally snapped out of his little psychotic episode and has noticed Garfunkel standing over the body of Hall.

Oates: Raaaaaaargh!

Fox: Oates charges, ready to tear the folk legend a new one, but Garfunkel neatly sidesteps and sticks a foot out, tripping Oates.

Wolf: Oates goes down hard on his side. He's trying to get up again, but Garfunkel drops a knee to his chest.

Fox: Oates struggles, but Garfunkel has him pinned. Wait a minute, Garfunkel presses the spine of his leather-bound tome to Oates' neck, draws back his other hand and brings it down...

*CRUNCH*

Wolf: OH MY GOODNESS! That's definitely a crushed windpipe!

Fox: Now THAT is freaking METAL!

Wolf: Thus ends a surprisingly bloodless, yet somehow more brutal match. With Art being the last man standing, the winners are Simon & Garfunkel!

Fox: I think we can all take a lesson from this: don't mess with Art Garfunkel!

Wolf: I don't know about you Fox, but I was _not_ expecting that.

Fox: Me either, Wolfie, me neither. Well until next time folks, I'm Fox McCloud...

Wolf:...and I'm Wolf O'Donnell, and you've been watching...

Both: SUPER. CELEBRITY. SLUGFEEEEEEEST!

Wolf: I wonder if I can get an autograph from Garfunkel?

Fox: Well you won't getting one from any of the others, are you?

Wolf: Dude! Way too soon!

Fox: Shut up, Wolf.


	4. Gordon Ramsay vs Martha Stewart

Fox: Good evening again, ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Super Celebrity Slugfest! I'm Fox McCloud...

Wolf: And I'm Wolf O'Donnell. All you food lovers out in tv land are in for a real treat tonight!

Fox: Damn straight! this match will pit legendary Hell's Kitchener Gordon Ramsay against the founder of Martha Stewart Living Omnimedia…. Martha Stewart! But the game tonight will be a little different than usual.

Wolf: That's right, Fox, instead of the usual all-out fight to the death, tonight will be an all-out cook off in our kitchen setting. Personally I'm glad for the change of pace, getting two of these culinary icons to do anything else is a waste.

Fox: Shut up, Wolf! There will be blood tonight, I guarantee it.

Wolf: We'll see about that. Let's cross down to Michael Buffer.

Buffer: Llllllladies and gentlemen! On my left hand side, cooking his signature Beef Wellington, Gordon Ramsay!

[The crowd jeers]

Buffer: And on the right, preparing her famous Croquembouche, Martha STEWAARRRT!

[Wild Applause!]

Fox: Wow, a lot of antagonism towards Ramsay from the crowd!

Wolf: Probably all jilted aspiring chefs from the tv show.

Fox: In that case, they're all out for his blood!

Wolf: They're gonna be disappointed, it's not that kind of match.

Fox: Shut up, Wolf. The ref is about to start the fight.

[Chuck Norris holds up an alarm clock which rings until he crushes it in his hand.]

Fox: And they're off! Stewart is going straight for the fridge while Ramsay is going...straight for Stewart?

Ramsay: You [bleep] [bleep]jng [bleep] [bleep]ing [bleep]er! You're nothing but a [bleep] [bleep] [bleep] in a [bleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep]

Wolf: Well that's just uncalled for. Say Fox, is he going to just stand there screaming obscenities in her face in hopes of demoralising her, or actually cook, like a chef is supposed to do?

Fox: Nah, people only tune in for the obscenities and the demoralising.

[Author's Note: Yeah, I went there...]

Wolf: Whatever he's saying to her, it clearly isn't getting to her, she doesn't react in the slightest.

Ramsay: You call that rolling [beep]ing shortcrust?  
>My <em>grandmother<em> could roll better than you!

Wolf: Stewart _still _not even acknowledging Ramsay's presence, let alone his taunting.

Fox: Ol' Gordy isn't too happy about that, he looks like he's about to pop open a vein!

Wolf: Now he's getting physical, he's grabbed her by the shoulder...

Ramsay: REACT YOU [beep] [beep] [beep]

*WAHNG*

Wolf: Oh my!

Fox: Now THAT'S more like it! Finally sick of his yammering, Martha Stewart swung out with a baking tray, catching Ramsay right in his motormouth!

Wolf: Now she picks up a rolling pin and...

*THUD*

Wolf:...drives it into Ramsay's gut, knocking the wind right out of him!

Fox: That's one way to shut him up!

Wolf: Well maybe now that she's got the aggression out of her system, they can get back to cooking.

Fox: She's not done yet, Wolf, grabbing ahold of a pepper mill and grinding the seasoning out into her hand.

Wolf: Ramsay, still gasping for breath revived a face full of pepper!

Ramsay: ARRRGH [BLEEP!]

Wolf: He may be covered in pepper, but Ramsay is as_ salty_ as ever, eh, Fox?

Fox: Shut up Wolf. Ramsay is PISSED, trying to wipe pepper out of his eyes and grab a weapon at the same time.

Wolf: His hands manage to find a boning knife.

Fox: Heheheh...

Wolf: Oh grow up, Fox.

Ramsay: THAT'S IT, YOU [bleep]! I'm gonna [bleep]ing disembowel you! I'll cut your [bleep]ing [bleep] and [bleep] like a [bleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep] monkey!

Fox: Ok, even _I'M_ offended now!

Wolf: Yet Stewart doesn't bat an eyelid.

Fox: Ramsay screams something unintelligible and charges, waving the knife!

Wolf: But Stewart is ready for him, sidestepping the attack, grabbing his arm and pushing the blade away from her with one hand, swinging the other hand...

*WAHNG!*

Fox:...and Ramsay takes a baking tray to the mush, yet again!

Wolf: Pressing her advantage, Stewart grabs him by the collar and slams his head against the bench!

Fox: I guess prison taught her a thing or two.

Wolf: She's STILL not finished! She pins his hand down on the bench, grabs a nearby mortar and brings it down...

*CRUNCH*

[Ramsay shrieks unintelligibly]

Fox: Ooh, I bet that broke a few fingers!

Wolf: Stewart finally releases him and walks away, leaving Ramsay clutching his hand.

Fox: Is he crying? I think Gordo is in actual tears!

Wolf: I don't blame him.

Fox: That's cause you're a wuss.

[Wolf pokes fox's cast]

Wolf: Martha has turned on the stove, gas, as per her request. I wonder what she's got mind?

Fox: Well if you shut up, Wolf, we can find out?

Stewart: Have you had enough?

Ramsay: [bleep]...you...[bleep]

Fox: Wrong answer! Stewart hauls him up, pushes him over to the stove and...

Ramsay: AIIIIIIIIEEEEE!

Wolf: Oh my!

Fox: That sizzling sound you hear folks, is Gordon Ramsay's face-flesh being seared to crispy perfection!

Wolf: Ewww!

Fox: Shut up, Wolf! Ramsay thrashes feebly, his screams now little more than a muted gurgle!

Wolf: Martha is showing no signs of mercy as she drags him over to the dishwasher, lifts the lid and shoves Ramsay beneath it!

Fox: It looks like she's gonna drop the lid on him, guillotine-style

Wolf: I can't look!

Stewart: Now, that's a good thing!

*THUNK*

Fox: Stewart slams the lid down on his neck then opens it again...

*THUNK*

Fox:...then brings it down, then up again...

*THUNK*

Fox:...and down a third time! Ramsay goes limp. That's a crushed windpipe for sure, and possible spine damage to boot!

Wolf: Either way, it's obvious who the winner is tonight! Triumphant and trying her darnedest to still look glamorous with her opponents blood covering her.

[Crowd goes batty]

Fox: Well that was a surprisingly brutal, yet immensely satisfying match! Until next time ladies and gentlemen, I'm Fox McCloud...

Wolf...I'm Wolf O'Donnell and we'll see you again soon on...

Both: Super. Celebrity. SLUGFEEEEEEEST!

Fox: Woah, I think I can see some prison ink on the back of Martha's leg! Any idea what it says?

Wolf: "Born to fry..."


End file.
